


Reflections

by owlaholic68



Series: French Space AU [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, F/F, Mirror Universe, Spaceships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 17:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14061501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/owlaholic68
Summary: Captain Lynn of the Galactic Republic starship Lucky is having a...strange day. She’s looking at herself, but she’s standing in front of no mirror. A woman who looks like her, who is her, but at the same time, who is completely different.A Mirror Universe-style fic.





	Reflections

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Au-dèla des étoiles/Beyond the Stars up to Chapter 10! I would recommend reading that before reading this.

 

Captain Lynn frowns, one hand white-knuckled, tense, around the arm of her chair. “Can we get any more information before flying into this, Lieutenant Williams?” 

The blond officer pushes a few buttons, looking worriedly up at the screen, where an unknown spatial anomaly is slowly pulling  _ Lucky  _ in. “From what we can tell, it’s not going to harm us, but we don’t know what the other effects are going to be until we’re inside, Captain.” 

With a shudder, the ship sinks even further. Lynn nods at the pilot to stop trying to fight the pull. She knows that it’s inevitable now; the least they could do was reduce the strain on the engines. The anomaly is bright blue with streaks of red and white that encircle the ship and drag it in. 

The ship’s power cuts out. Then, before the emergency generators have a chance to kick in, they come back on. 

“Report,” Lynn immediately orders. “What happened to the ship, where are we-” She gasps, her eyes raising to the front of the bridge. 

“Mais qu’est-ce qui se passe, je suis où-” A woman is staring back at her with Lynn’s eyes. 

No. Not just with her eyes, but with her whole face. Even her demeanor is like a reflection of Lynn’s: tense, powerful, scared. Lynn rises from her chair, her eyes locked with this woman’s. 

“Who are you?” she asks. 

“Quoi? Pourquoi tu ne parles pas français, pourquoi je-” The woman seems at a loss for words. Or, at least at a loss for  _ English  _ words. She swallows hard and points at herself. “Lynn.” Then she points at Lynn.

Lynn nods, throat constricting from the gravity of the realization. “Lynn,” she confirms, her voice cracking. This is impossible. She’s looking at herself, but she’s standing in front of no mirror. But if this is really her, maybe there is one language they  _ do  _ have in common…

".هدئ" Lynn says, wincing at her poor pronunciation. With the standardization of language, it hasn’t been necessary for her to keep up on her Arabic. “لا داعي للذعر.” 

The other woman, the other Lynn, seems to relax at the familiar language, though she squints in concentration to understand. It’s also entirely possible that the other Lynn had learned a different variation of Arabic: all this Lynn remembers is her family's casual phrasing, not the more official dialect that became obsolete shortly after she started school. 

“Can I have Julie and Christine to the bridge conference room, please,” Lynn says into her communication system, staying calm, reminding herself that she’s seen odder things than this. “Arcade and Veronica, you might want to come see this too. And if someone could bring a universal translator, please, right away, as soon as humanly possible would be great.” 

Lynn approaches the other Lynn, slowly, finally taking a good look at her. What surprises her the most isn’t the odd clothing or the sword at her counterpart’s hip, it’s the golden crown on her head. Where did she come from? What is she doing here on her ship? 

“Julie?” Other Lynn asks, an odd lilt to her voice when she says the name, a very heavy French accent making the syllables sing. “Veronica et Christine aussi?” 

“Yes,” Lynn confirms, nodding. She points to the door to the conference room, and the other woman gets the idea. Great minds think alike, after all.

Thankfully, the translator comes quickly, and Lynn doesn’t even have time to worry about how she’s going to explain it before Other Lynn is already clipping it into her ear. 

“Can you understand me?” Lynn asks. 

“Yes.” Other Lynn sits, frowning at the chair, which isn’t built to accommodate the bulk of her dress. “Where am I? Is this  _ Lucky _ ?” 

Lynn leans forward excitedly. “You’re from the same spaceship? Wow, that’s incredible-” 

The door opens, and Other Lynn stands up excitedly. “Julie!” Then she frowns, looking Julie and Veronica up and down before slowly sitting down again. 

“Lynn?” Julie breathlessly asks. “What’s going on?” She grabs Veronica’s arm, sinking into the chair next to Lynn. 

Lynn raises a hand to cut her off. “Hold on.” She turns to her counterpart. “You recognize them? What are their names? Do they look the same?” 

Before Other Lynn gets a chance to answer, the door opens again and Christine enters, nodding at Lynn before sitting down. It’s only then that she sees the double, her eyes widening. 

“Madame la Duchesse Julie de Farkas. And Veronica- Madame la Vicomtesse of the Arlaud Nebula- or maybe not?” She frowns. “And Knight Christine, of course. And I thought you said that Monsieur Arcade was coming too-”

“Sorry I’m late, I ran into a problem- oh. Oh.” Arcade puts a hand on the doorframe to steady himself. 

“Monsieur, Count Arcade Gannon of New Navarro,” Other Lynn says. “Or maybe that hasn’t happened yet? Are you the science officer?” 

“Yes, of course I’m the science officer?” Arcade responds, hesitating before sitting next to this oddity in the only available seat. “What else what I be? Who are you? Who is she, Lynn?” 

“I am-” “She is-” 

“Well, this is going to be a problem, isn’t it?” Veronica pipes up. “Captain, how about we call her Madame Lynn or something, since she’s French and seems to like titles?” 

Captain Lynn agrees. “Sounds great. And to answer your question, I have a theory. Lynn- sorry, Madame Lynn, tell me something only I would know.” 

“When you were eight years old, you pushed your younger sister Joanna into the fountain in the Luxembourg Gardens, but you said it was an accident, and you fell in too to make it more believable. But actually, you were just jealous that her boat was better than yours.” 

“Unfortunately, that’s right. How many levels does  _ Lucky  _ have?” 

“Five.” 

“Where are my-our quarters?” 

This one gives Madame Lynn pause. “Are you the queen? You’re not wearing your crown.” 

Christine grabs Veronica’s hand, squeezing it once. Lynn’s brow furrows. “No. I’m the captain. But I am in charge. Are you- are you saying that you’re a  _ queen _ ?” That would explain the crown on her counterpart’s head.

“Yes, of course. I need to be to command a vessel,” Madame Lynn explains. “Well, if you’re in charge, then your quarters are probably Level two, room 215. Right across from Julie’s.” 

The officers look at each other. 

“I think you’re from an alternate universe,” Lynn proposes. “One where you’re in charge of the same spaceship, with the same people, but in a totally different reality. It would explain your, uh, outfit, and your different language and system of hierarchy.” 

Madame Lynn rubs a locket around her neck. “That sounds right. But,” tears well up in her eyes behind her odd-looking glasses, “I just want to know one thing: How do I get home?” 

* * *

Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to be as easy as going back through the anomaly. Not that they could even try, because every time they approached it, in stark contrast to their last encounter, the spatial entity pushed them away with force that their engines couldn’t fight. 

Madame Lynn was given a spare room on the ship, though she didn't spend much time in it. Instead, she followed Lynn or Julie or anyone familiar around, hanging around the common areas or the bridge. They’d also convinced her to change into clothing that would actually fit through doorways, though she’d resisted at first. Veronica had been able to find an adequate dress from storage, one that went to Madame Lynn’s ankles and had an approved amount of decoration. She’d kept the crown: anything familiar was a comfort in this strange world.

“So you’re telling me that we’re still together in your world?” Veronica asks, passing Madame Lynn a piece of cake. Christine is sitting next to her, leaning on her shoulder and feeding her some bites of her salad from time to time. “What about us and Lynn? Or Julie?” 

Madame Lynn blushes bright red, her fingers still rubbing that locket. “Euh, not really-not yet, but euh, maybe eventually? Me and Julie are together, though.” 

Christine nods in understanding. The trio are briefly distracted by Arcade, who jogs into to the cafeteria, head buried in a tablet, grabbing a sandwich and nearly running into someone on the way out. 

“Still a workaholic, I see,” Madame Lynn mutters. “Some things never change.”

“Oh, tell us about that idiot that apparently was in charge before me, that sounds ridiculous,” Veronica urges. Madame Lynn laughs and launches into a story about how Fantastic had somehow messed up the heating so badly that some crewmembers had to be sent to the infirmary for hypothermia, all because he thought he heard a noise, when in fact the noise was just the engines all along.

* * *

“Incredible, this is so clean!” Madame Lynn remarks. “Is this  _ really  _ your laboratory, Arcade?” 

He winces. “Gee, thanks. Regulation requires it to be organized.” 

She hums thoughtfully. “Regulations...requiring clean spaces...now that’s something to think about. Well, let me see what you’re working on.” 

Arcade shows her his different experiments, noting that she keeps squinting up at him as if looking for something that was missing. She’s already commented on his lack of glasses and how it’s weird that he drinks coffee and not tea in this universe, asking him a few times if he  _ really  _ wasn’t Julie’s assistant before his current position. 

“And these are some alien plants I’m researching,” he explains, showing her the most greenery-filled part of his workspace. 

“Oh!” She starts, a revelation dawning in her eyes. “Of course, that’s what’s different! What’s going on with Dmitri?” 

“Dmitri?” 

“Yes, this one,” she points at a plant that had been causing him a great deal of annoyance the last week, ever since he had gotten it. “Ah, the plaque reads ‘Dmitrius’. Interesting.” 

Arcade rubs the back of his neck. His problem seems so silly. He hasn’t even told anyone he’d named the plant, never mind that he talks to it. Never mind that it feels like they’ve had a fight, even though he can’t have gotten in a fight with a  _ plant _ . “Every time I touched him, he wrapped around me somehow and wouldn’t let me go.” 

Madame Lynn gives him a  _ look _ , one that says she knows something from her universe, and wants to see if it’s true in this one. “Would you mind if I touch him?” 

“Yeah, go ahead.” 

She sighs. “No, Arcade, you need to tell  _ him  _ that, preferably when you’re touching him, so I know that he heard. I’m certainly not touching him if you don’t give the go-ahead. I like all of my fingers still attached, merci beaucoup.” 

Oh no. Somehow, this Lynn knows that he talks to Dmitrius. His blue uniform is suddenly too warm, his lab coat smothering him. “Uh, I, I guess, if you insist.” He grimaces and extends his hand, Dmitrius immediately coiling around his fingers, at just the right pressure to be comfortable and not constricting. “She’s alright, Dmitrius. Now please let me go, please and I’m reallysorryaboutyesterday, Ihopeyou’restillnotmadatme.” He doesn’t need to push Dmitrius into another sulk by being mean, but he doesn’t want to have to go everywhere with a plant in hand. 

“Great!” Madame Lynn says, picking up Dmitrius’ pot and letting a few vines wrap around her wrists. “I hope this works, otherwise I’m going to feel like an idiot!” 

Her eyes roll back in her head and she collapses. 

* * *

“So that was  _ not  _ supposed to happen,” Madame Lynn admits. She shies away from Julie’s concerned hands checking her pulse and breathing. “I’m fine now, really. I’m particularly psi-sensitive, I really should have been more careful. Dmitri- I mean Dmitrius- was just a little enthusiastic.” 

“Psi-sensitive?” Arcade asks, his heart sinking in realization. “You’re saying that- that Dmitrius- he’s telepathic-” 

Madame Lynn pats his arm with the hand still tangled in Dmitrius’ vines. “It’s alright, I know it’s a shock. At least you’re not half-dead this time. How about we leave you two alone for a little while to work it out?” 

She hands him the pot and his shoulders stiffen. If Dmitrius is  _ somehow  _ a telepathic plant like she’s implying, then he’d immediately pick up on the odd tumultuous feelings that Arcade’s been having the last few days, terrible no-good thoughts he should  _ not  _ be having about a  _ plant _ . “No, Lynn, I, no,” he squeaks in protest. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she says, laughing. “It’ll all work out, I promise.” She gets up from the infirmary bed and takes Julie’s arm, dragging her from the infirmary, leaving Arcade and Dmitrius alone. 

* * *

“Outpost Achilles, we will be sending someone over shortly,” Captain Lynn says. She goes down to the infirmary to check on Julie, who’s preparing medical supplies for her visit. An alien race called the Gelant had requested their aid, so Julie and a security officer would be going over shortly to do what they could. 

“You can’t send Julie over,” Madame Lynn hisses, grabbing her arm in the hallway and yanking her to a stop. 

“What? Why not?” Sometimes Madame Lynn had some odd ideas about things, and this could just be one of those ideas. Maybe officers in her world weren’t supposed to leave the vessel or something. 

But she recognizes the worry and concern in her counterpart’s dark eyes. “Did they say what their medical emergency was?”

“No, but Julie knows what to bring for their species. She doesn't need more information. We know plenty about the Gelant. The Republic is even drafting up a treaty with them.” 

“Ask for more clarification,” Madame Lynn insists. “And watch that  _ slimy  _ bastard Gerard’s face. And my advice:  _ always  _ get more information. Don’t go blind into situations, or you’ll regret it.” 

Lynn pales, remembering another situation that had recently gone sideways, and the scars, both physical and mental, that it had left on her and her crew. “Understood.”

Gerald, the commander of the outpost, frowns at her question. “It’s a medical emergency,” he repeats. 

There’s something about his face that betrays him, a flicker of anger, or worry, or something she can’t quite catch. “Then our medical officer, Julie needs all of the information she can get so she knows exactly what to bring. Who is affected? How serious is it? Are there any symptoms you can describe?”

“You humans and your  _ questions _ . Everyone is affected,” Gerald snarls, his hackles raising. “I can assure you that it is  _ very  _ serious. And I don’t know how to describe the symptoms, but your Julie will be able to see them, they’re very obvious.” He’s floundering, hiding behind a veneer of indignation. 

He’s lying, and he can’t hide it. Lynn’s instincts, which have served her well in her rise to captaincy, scream that this is a trap. “Then show us. You said everyone was affected? Even you? You don’t look any different.” 

Gerald’s hands tighten on the arm of his chair. He glances to his side and nods, and it’s enough warning for Lynn. 

“Shields up!” She orders, just before a barrage of torpedoes hits their hull, doing no damage thanks to her quick thinking. “Attention all crew, this is a Red Alert. Go to battle stations. Julie, cancel that medical emergency.”

* * *

It’s been three days since Madame Lynn had abruptly arrived on their ship, and they’ve gotten no closer to sending her back. 

“Maybe I was sent here for a reason,” she theorizes, frowning into her steaming teacup. “Maybe I need to help you somehow.” 

“You already have,” Captain Lynn says. They’re sitting together in the mess hall, no doubt creating an odd scene: two near-identical women in completely different outfits, mirror images of each other. “I’m not sure what else you could do. I mean, you saved Julie from getting  _ kidnapped  _ and you prevented a crewmember from getting killed.” 

Madame Lynn stirs some honey into her tea, staring at the liquid, a frown tugging at her lips. 

“Why doesn’t Christine talk? What happened?” The abrupt change of topic surprises Lynn, but the question itself doesn’t. She’d thought that maybe some things weren’t different between their universes, but apparently this was one thing that wasn’t mirrored. 

“Something happened,” Lynn says, the words sticking in her throat. She hesitates, and then she tells Madame Lynn everything, the words spilling out of her like they never had before, even when she had been sitting in front of her tablet, struggling to write a coherent report of the incident without bursting into tears. 

She talks about the planet, the Domes, the panic when she and Christine had been separated, the sinking feeling when their communications with the ship and each other had been cut. The scientists, the experiments, the deranged man who had tried to kill Lynn, the other man who had saved Christine-

“Wait, describe that man again,” Madame Lynn interrupts, leaning forward in her chair. “Do you have a picture? Do you know his name?” 

Lynn repeats her description, trying to remember exactly what he had looked like. “He had an older style of hair, one from Ancient Africa, I think. Here’s a picture,” she shows a galactic wanted notice. “Ulysses.” 

“Ulysses…” Madame Lynn frowns. “I know him, I think. Or, I  _ will  _ know him.” Then she explains their encounter with the Sentinels, describes the water and the man and the empty throne. This seems to remind her of something. She takes off her necklace, the locket that she always seems to wear. She cracks it open and shows it to Lynn. 

There’s an intricate portrait of Julie on one side, a small painting of Christine and Veronica together on the other. “Veronica bought it for me for my birthday.” 

Lynn traces the etched metal, marvelling at the detail on the pictures. They really do look like their counterparts in her universe, with the exception of some small details, of course. “Wow, this is-” 

The ship shakes, listing to one side. Madame Lynn slips the locket back over her head.

“Report-” 

“The anomaly just appeared in front of us, Captain, it’s pulling us in-” 

“Resist as much as you can, but don’t strain the engines,” she orders. She turns to her counterpart, who seems to have the same idea in her eyes. “I guess this is goodbye.” 

Madame Lynn smiles. “I guess there really wasn’t some grand reason I was brought here, was there?” 

“No,” Lynn admits. “I guess not. But it was still wonderful to get to know you. You helped so much.” She hugs her, and Madame Lynn hugs her back. Two women, maybe not so perfect reflections of each other, more like distorted refractions. Lynn closes her eyes. 

When she opens them, she’s alone. Madame Lynn is gone. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ooh this is an idea that I've had for a while, and just finished up editing today!
> 
> A more Star Trek-style AU was actually my original idea for the Au-Dela AU, but the idea somehow got twisted into a French monarchy fic instead. I thought that original idea Lynn meeting Au-Dela Lynn would be a cool idea, considering all of the differences between their two universes! 
> 
> I actually think that this entire fic is non-canon to the Au-Dela universe, so Lynn in that fic would not learn any of the things that she learns about Ulysses, for example. Also, the Arabic is Google Translated, so tell me if it totally doesn't make sense. It's supposed to say: "calm down" and "don't panic".


End file.
